“Gin and tonic. Extra ice. No straw.”
A glass slid across the bar, its contents splashing onto that mangled, aged countertop every few inches. An ice cube flew off the counter onto the black tar floors, never to be seen again. The glass even wobbled, nearly upending once or twice. Still, despite all the trouble, the drink eventually hit an outstretched hand.
“Thanks, Jackie,” Peter said, lifting the glass toward the bartender.
Jackie, a skeleton of a women, with sunken eyes and a voice that only one who had been smoking since she had gotten out of diapers, narrowed her eyes at the young man. They were slightly yellowed, and far too big for her skull. Some of the club’s partons had—very quietly— joked that they weren’t the eyes of a human.
“You better give me a tip tonight,” she croaked, bringing a cigarette to her mouth and taking a long drag.
Peter took a drink of his gin. As usual, she had ruined his drink. The tonic water had no fizzle, and the gin was somewhat warm even though it was cold in the bar. The young man looked at his drink, smacking his lips as he put it down on the coaster sitting in front of him.
“I always tip you,” he lied.
Jackie snorted. It was a gnarled, unnatural sound, like an engine about to explode. “Yeah, well, you better tip double tonight,” she said, pointing a bony finger at him before turning away.
A soft chuckle came to Peter’s left. The only other person seated at the bar, a young man near his age, leaned over toward him. That young man was none other than Phil, his childhood friend and partner in crime.
“Yeah Pete, you better tip her,” Phil said, nudging his ribs. “I bet she’d like your tip, you sick fuck.”
Peter shivered at the thought. Grabbing his drink, he took a big gulp of it. “No thanks.”
Phil elbowed him again, a smile on his face as he took a sip of his beer. “So, is Thomas coming or what? I wanna go to The Hideout tonight. Get some big tits in my face.”
“We’re not going to the goddamn strip club,” Peter said, looking down at his phone.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t feel like going to a dump. I never want to go up to that shithole but I especially don’t wanna go tonight.”
A hand slapped him on the back, making him grunt. “That’s why Thomas needs to get his ass here. That way we can talk you into going up there with us,” Phil said with a grin. “Come on, first lap dance is on me. I’ll even get Big Bess for ya.”
Peter ignored his friend, scrolling through a few social media sites. Thomas had sent him a message thirty minutes ago saying that he was on his way. He knew how his friend drove; he should have been here twenty minutes ago.
Setting down his phone—making sure to place it down screen first— he looked around the bar.
Yellowed, chipped paint lined the walls. On those walls hung various flags, photos, and a very large portrait of Benedict the Twelfth set in a cloudy background with a dove flying over him. A silver eagle with two stuffed football players hanging off it hung from the ceiling. Five aged flat screen TVs hung around the room in various spots. In the corner, a dart board could be seen, its neon lights flashing on and off at random intervals. It was quiet, save for the radio playing in the background and Jackie hacking up a lung a few feet from them.
He found himself frowning, picking his phone back up. “Where the hell is Thomas? He should have been here ages ago.”
Not two seconds later the bell to the bar entrance buzzed. Both Peter and Phil perked up.
“There is he,” Phil said, placing his empty beer can on the edge of the counter and grabbing another handful of bills from his pocket. “That sick bastard is the only one that never remembers his key.”
Taking another long drag of her cigarette, Jackie reached under the counter, pushing the unlock button for the door. There was a click, and the door was flung open, revealing Thomas.
As usual, he was wearing his work overalls and work boots, his clothes and face covered in oil and axle grease. There was a smile as he stepped inside, though he didn’t wave at the two as he usually did and skip over toward them. No, as he entered the bar he held the door and motioned for someone to come inside.
“Huh, looks like he brought someone,” Phil said, taking another sip of his drink.
“It’s probably that slut Jac— The fuck is that?”
A horse stepped into the bar. It was pure white, with a big pair of deep purple eyes and a rainbow mane that seemed to be floating. A horn stuck out from the top of its head, and on closer inspection there seemed to be a pair of wings on it’s back. The horse also seemed to be wearing a crown of some sort, as well as a chest plate and golden shoes on its hooves.
The creature looked around as Phil and Peter stared, speechless, a small smile on its muzzle. A curious gleam could be seen in its eyes as it scanned the room, eventually settling on the two young men.
Jackie, staring at the horse, frowned. “Oh no, no, no. You ain’t bringing a dog into this bar,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Nah, the club head will tear my head off if he comes in here and sees it.”
“Forgive me, ma’am,” the creature said in perfect English, making Phil and Peter nearly jump off their stools. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but I was told that it’d be alright if I were to have a few drinks?”
“She’s not a dog either, Jackie. She’s a pony,” Thomas said, all smiles.
Jackie looked the alleged pony up and down, her eyes narrowed down to slits. Gears could be seen turning behind those yellowed eyes of hers as she processed the sight of what was no doubt a bonafide alien standing not ten feet in front of her.
She made a face, taking another drag of her cigarette. “Alright,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “But ya gotta sign her in, and if she makes a mess on the floor you’re cleaning it up.”
Phil made a quiet, confused sound. Peter, pinched himself.
Doing as he was told, Thomas made his way over to the sign in sheet with the alien in tow. He gestured toward the piece of paper, offering it a pen.
“Thank you,” it said, the tip of its horn glowing.
Peter and Phil watched as the pen was lifting into the air seemingly under its own power, floating toward the sign in sheet.
“What the fuck is that?” Phil whispered.
“A horse?” Peter replied, not able to keep his eyes off the thing.
For a moment, the two thought it was some kind of joke. Thomas had gotten one of their other buddies to put on a costume to mess with them. He had done far crazier things for a joke. But no, as far as he could tell that wasn’t someone in a suit. It’s movements were too natural, it’s fur too lifelike. That was a real life alien walking toward them.
“Evenin’, fellas,” Thomas said, sauntering over toward the two. “How’s it going?”
He hopped onto the stool next to Phil. The alien, with careful, measured steps, walked up to the stool next to Peter and mounted it with a graceful hop.
“Good evening, gentlecolts,” she said with a smile. “Thomas has been speaking of you since I met him, and I must confess all the praise he’s heaped onto you has had me eager to meet you both.”
She offered Peter a hoof. Peter blinked, staring at it for a long moment before good manners took over and he took it. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. My name’s Peter. That’s Phil right there.”
“Hiya,” Phil said with a wave.
The alien ruffled her feathers, her smile only growing. “My name is Celestia,” she said, giving his hand a shake. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Peter and Phil gave her a smile before turning their attention toward their friend, wherein their expressions turned less than friendly. Thomas’s brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the two, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet.
“…What?”
“You gonna tell us where you met your new friend?” Phil asked.
“Oh,” Thomas said, expression brightening. “I was coming here and I saw her walking down the street down near the fire department. I stopped the ol’ Shaggin’ Wagon and talked to her for a little bit, and here we are.”
“Thomas offered to bring me to this bar. I hope I’m not bothering the two of you,” Celestia said, her ears flicking.
She eyed the glass sitting in front of Peter. He followed her gaze, and seeing what she was looking at it slid his own glass over to her, topped it off, and grabbed her a straw.
Celestia made a happy noise, clapping her hooves together before picking the drink up through some unseen means. “Thank you very much!”
The stool squeaked as she wiggled around happily on top of it, bringing the straw to her lips and taking a sip. She hummed as its taste hit her lips, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth. The sight of it brought smiles to the faces of everyone at the bar, even Jackie.
“I figured that the four of us could have a couple drinks and enjoy our Friday night like the sick fucks we are,” Thomas said, wrapping an arm around Phil’s shoulder.
For any person, all of this would have been more than overwhelming. Even the best and brightest would have tripped up having an alien just walk through the door and sit next to them like it was completely normal. Phil and Peter weren’t the best and the brightest. They didn’t have any idea what to do in this situation or who to call.
Could they even call someone? If they did would they be seen again? Would the alien blow them up or take them back to its ship to perform horrible experiments on them? What even was this alien doing in the crummy town on a Friday night?
There were a million questions to ask, many of which no doubt had impossibly difficult answers. So, after a few seconds of thought, both young men decided that it was better to let all of them go unanswered.
This was a life altering, world changing event in every sense of the word, but maybe if they shut their eyes hard enough and pretended that everything was fine and normal things would turn out okay. Maybe.
“We’d be happy to have you tonight, Mrs. Celestia,” Peter said.
“Yeah. Can’t wait to get to know ya,” Phil said, raising his beer.
Celestia looked at the two men. Her smile became smaller, more heartfelt as she placed a hoof against her chest.
“Thank you both very much. I hope this will be as fun for you as it is for me.”
“Jackie, can you get me another glass? And another bottle of that tonic water,” Peter said, slapping his hand against the counter before he stood up. “And a glass; a clean one please. No, the other one; I saw you using that one as a trash tray like ten minutes ago”
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
“So, what you do is check your ticket by ripping that little part off. You get red numbers that’s a holder. You get red numbers and if the last two digits are the same you get money back. If you get numbers and the last three of them are the same everyone gets free shots.”
Celestia looked down at the pile of tickets in front of her. From her expression one might have been mistaken in believing that she were looking down at undetonated bombs.
“Are you positive that it’s alright that I have the honors? You’ve all been kind enough to pay for my drinks, and now you’re paying for this,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Phil said with a wave it his hand, quietly thanking Jackie as he was handed another beer. “Everyone that comes in here for the first time usually gets a couple of those from someone in the bar. It’s practically a tradition.”
“Yeah, go for it, pony lady,” Peter said, bumping his side against hers.
Nodding Celestia’s horn glowed. Her magic—yes, she had insisted it was magic when they asked her about it—pulled open the ticket. The pony then inspected it, her face lighting up.
“I got three of the same numbers in a row,” she said, showing it to young men.
They let out a cheer, Phil spilling beer all over Thomas, who seemed not to even notice.
“Hey, Jackie! We need four shots over here!” Thomas called a little too louder than needed. “Bring over that Jameson. It’s been eying me for the past forty-five minutes!”
~_~_~_~_~_~_~
“Haaaaaph!”
“Haaaaah!”
Peter and Thomas stood on the other end of the bar’s ping pong table. It was at this table where the two had spent hours and hours honing their skills. At first, they had played each other and others as singles, but after discovering that they played far better as a team they had transformed onto an absolute terror for the bar.
For the last two years straight, they had won every single ping pong tournament without contest. Their many victories had been so one sided that the club’s officers had discussed banning the two from participating in any other tournaments for the foreseeable future.
Both men were breathing hard and sweaty, their eyes wild and their teeth bared. Celestia stood opposite of them, a ping pony pad floating in her magic, a teasing smile on her face.
At that moment, the current score was 6-0, Celestia.
With a yell, Peter hit the ping pong ball as hard as he could. It hit the corner of the table, bouncing toward a row of folded chairs. Celestia, humming a tune to herself, smacked it right back with a flick of her horn. Peter jumped back, allowing Thomas to hit the ball in a slicing motion, sending the ball spinning just over the net. It hit the table, spinning crazily to the left. Again, with little trouble, Celestia sent it right back across the board.
“Come on boys. You don’t want me skunking you again, do you?” The mare taunted.
“Magic is so bullshit!” Peter said, slapping the ball right back at her. “It—FUCK!”
The ball missed the table, hitting the ground. Celestia unfurled her wings and struck a victorious pose. Thomas threw his paddle toward the garbage can. Peter covered his face with his hands.
“Goddammit!”
“Shit!”
“Looks like it’s my win again, gentlecolts,” Celestia said, smiling from ear to ear. “Now, I believe the loser is supposed to buy the shots next…?”
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
“If you just put your name right there we’ll get Peter to sign. I’ll be your sponsor so everything should be alright. Remember to put the date down too. The officers get really anal if you don’t do that.”
Celestia bobbed her head up and down. The pony’s cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. Her crown sat on the counter right next to the small pile of money that she had won over the course of the night. One of her wings were extended, wrapped around Peter so that she didn’t fall out of her stool.
“So, I just sign here?” she asked, taking the pen from Phil’s hand. “And everypony in the club will be okay with me being a member.”
“Hey, this is a Polish club. As long as you pay the dues and aren’t black you’ll fit right in,” Thomas said.
Peter eyed Jackie before leaning toward Celestia’s ear. “If you wanna be a full member all you gotta go is write down that someone in your family is Polish. It’s the easiest thing in the world to bullshit; I don’t got a lick of Polack in me and I’ll probably be the treasurer for this place next year. You give us three weeks, we talk to some people, I bet we get you voted in as Head of Activities for the whole goddamn bar.”
Celestia giggled. “Well, how could I ever refuse then?” she asked, swaying in her seat.
With a wave of her horn, she wrote her name down with a flourish. She pushed the paper toward Peter, who took the pen and wrote his name down as well.
“Now you just gotta give your twenty bucks to Jackie and that paper and you’re good to go. It’ll take a little while for you to get your key, but we’ll make sure to bug the guys about it,” Phil said.
“Wonderful,” Celestia said, pointing her muzzle into the air with a grin. “Now why don’t we do another shot to celebrate? “
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Celestia looked around from atop of Thomas’s back. Her forelegs were draped around his neck, while her back legs were hooked through the young man’s arms. Her wings flapped and ruffled with each minute movement he made.
There was a look of concern on the mare’s face. Just beneath that, however, was a bubbling excitement and exhilaration.
“This… this is wonderful! I can see why you’d ride on another’s back. It’s so… thrilling!” She made a happy noise, kicking Thomas’s sides. “I feel so free! So powerful!”
She leaned forward. Thomas grunted, nearly falling onto his face. He was able to grit his teeth though, legs shaking as he held up the very heavy mare.
“H-Happy… to see you… like it.”
“Like it? Oh I more than like it,” Celestia said, looking over at Phil and Peter, who were trying their hardest not to laugh. She giggled, placing a hoof on top of Thomas’ head and giving it a pat. “Could you be a dear and carry me around? Just for a little while?”
~_~_~_~_~_~_~
“Hey! If you kids keep messing around I’m kicking you outta here!”
“Hey, fucksh off, Jackie. You angry lil’ mummy,” Phil yelled, pointing at the picture of Benedict the Twelfth. “We’re sick of… of your shit!”
“Yeah, we’s just tryin’ to enjoy ourselves,” Peter said, taking a drink from his bottle of gin.
One of Celestia’s shoes, which was sitting nicely on top of his head, slid to the left. He managed to catch it before it hit the ground, nearly bashing his face against the counter. Frowning at the bartender, he placed it right back on his head where it belonged.
“Yesh! Lets us drinksh!” Celestia said, pointing a hoof at her. “For friendships!”
“For Friendships!” The young men yelled.
“Whoo!” Thomas added, throwing his hands up into the air.
He held the position for a few seconds before slumping forward, his forehead slamming against the countertop with a loud bang. No one seemed to notice as Phil began pouring everyone another shot.
“Comes on. Getsh do anyone. For thesh friendship.”
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Pain. Debilitating, nauseating, head-rlipping pain was all Peter felt as he was wrenched from sleep. This pain could be felt from head to toe and went all the way to the bone, sapping his strength and his will to live. Unfortunately, he did not immediately and painlessly die as the seconds crawled by.
Peter cracked open one eye, then the other, immediately covering his eyes with a groan. “Oh goddddddd.”
He was in his bathroom, lying in his bathtub. Somehow, his pants were on backwards and he was wearing his shoes without his socks. He also seemed to have gotten a shirt that was three sizes too small from somewhere. He didn’t notice any of this however, as all of the evil drink that he had ingested from last night was demanding to see the light of day once again.
It was a near thing, but he was able to scramble out of his tub and make it to his toilet just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into it. The cool, white porcelain felt cool against his sweaty, pale skin as he gathered his strength at the edge of the bowl, desperately wishing for death. Still, death did not come, and in its absence he was forced to cope.
Somehow, he was able to shamble out of his bathroom and into the hallway. There he made his way in the direction of his hallway.
His head hurt. His body hurt. The world was an unforgiving and horrible place where only nightmares happened. He needed bacon and sausage, otherwise his doom would be all but assured.
There was a knock on his front door. To a normal person, it would have just been a tap, but to Peter it was like cannons were going off near his ears. He groaned, covering his face with a hand as the knocking continued. He blindly made his way over toward the door, throwing it open.
“What?” he demanded, leaning on the door frame for support. “I don’t want any.”
The faces of two men in black suits greeted him.
“Are you Peter Doe?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t want any,” Peter repeated, trying to shut the door.
One of the men forced it back open with a hand.
“We’re sorry to bother you sir, but received a report that you may have a VIP that we’ve been trying to find the last few hours,” he said. “She goes by the name of Princess Celestia. She’s this tall, looks horseish in nature.”
Just then, a commotion came from behind Peter. Phil, Thomas, and Celestia were making their way toward the kitchen. All of them looked worse for wear and haggard. Celestia’s finery was gone and her mane was messy. She was riding on Phil’s back, her muzzle resting on his shoulder and her eyes half-open. Her wings were dragging across the floor, not that she seemed to care.
“Are you sure there’s no hay bacon?” she asked.
“We can’t eat hay,” Thomas replied, him and the other two ignoring the men in black and Peter as they walked by. “We got bacon though. It’s a million times better than hay.”
“I need it then. All of it,” Celestia said, closing her eyes with a whimper. “And some juice please.”
Peter and the two men watched them disappear around a corner. Peter turned back toward them.
“We don’t got any princesses here, just Celestia,” he said. “And she’s not a horse. She’s a pony.”